Teddy Bear Doctors
by TiTivillus
Summary: The dry-cleaning lady grows suspicious of the boys after having to deal with their blood-spattered clothes and various disguises. Outside!Pov. One-shot. Gen.


**Title:** Teddy Bear Doctors

 **Summary:** With all the people going in and out at her Laundromat it wasn't exactly like she kept track of everyone, but these two? They weren't exactly the _forgettable_ type. Outside!Pov. Gen. One-shot.

 **Warnings:** Rated T for swearing and sexual innuendos.

 **Disclaimer:** Sadly, the boys aren't mine.

 **Author's note:** This is a fill for the following prompt fic challenge on tumblr: post/117978831572/ive-always-wondered-what-tf-sam-and-dean-tell-the#permalink-notes

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Betsy had two new regulars.

With all the people going in and out at her Laundromat it wasn't exactly like she kept track of everyone, but these two? These two were two of the finest specimen of the male variety she had ever seen- not exactly the _forgettable_ type.

She put her newspaper away, neatly folded in half as she straightened the glasses on her nose and leaned forward against her small counter.

One was tall and lanky- wavy chestnut curls framing his chiseled face and even through the estimated two-thousand layers of flannel and cotton he was wearing (seriously, the kid needed to drop some of that offending clothing ASAP, if you asked her) she could see that he was the muscular type- probably hiding a six-pack beneath all that fabric.

The other one looked a little rough around the edges, but he was no less handsome. In fact, he had two of the most gorgeous eyes she had ever seen- the life-affirming, passionate kind of green the ocean turned during a storm. The color of the forest after it rains.

And at sixty-four years Betsy really hadn't thought some random guy could turn her legs to mush with one look of these murky green pools in her direction. But she was wrong.

Green-eyes was a little less muscle-packed than his companion but he was definitely in an impressive shape and he had the prettiest pair of lips she'd ever seen on a guy, hands down. All things considered, it didn't take long for Betsy to decide that these two were a class entirely of their own.

She watched their every move- watched them sort through mountains of dirty clothes and separating the whites from the colors. She couldn't help but notice that there were a hell of a lot of white shirts and ties involved… which could either mean that they both had an office job- or that they were feds- an idea that only added to make them more attractive in her book.

Their voices were too low for her to understand but there was an easy intimacy between them- in the way they stood too close together, shoulders brushing as they worked like a well-oiled machine. Like they completed each other- like they had known each other for their entire lives.

At some point the taller one raised his voice a little and she could catch just enough of his words to overhear that green-eye's name was Dean and that _Dean_ had apparently worn one of the taller guy's shirts. "C'mon man, stop stealing mine when you're working on the car, alright? This one's got motor oil all over it."Maybe they were mechanics instead of policeman.

Maybe they were mechanics instead of policeman.

Betsy decided that they could be scavengers for all she cared and it wouldn't make them less fascinating.

She'd tap that any time of the week, age-difference be screwed.

* * *

It wasn't long after their first visit that the tall guy returned, this time all by himself.

Betsy didn't get a chance to mourn the absence of his bow-legged, green-eyed friend, before _tall-dark-and-handsome_ sauntered up to her counter, forgoing the washing machine altogether.

"Uh… hi," he smiled and were those dimples on the kid's cheeks? Surely the world wouldn't be cruel enough to bestow that level of cuteness onto her about thirty years too fucking late. Where had these guys been when she was still young and turning heads herself?

Betsy leaned over the counter and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "What can I do for you, sugar?"

He had kind eyes- the kind that glowed with sympathy and politeness. "I would need to get some of these suits dry-cleaned… I'm afraid there are some uh… rather stubborn stains on there."

Betsy grinned a little at the sheepish tone of his voice and pulled the suits over the counter top. "Looks like it's your lucky day… cause there ain't no stain I can't handle."

"Yeah?" his voice turned up a notch- almost playfully so. "Think you can help with these?"

There were specks of blood on most of them and something else that looked and smelled suspiciously like gun polish.

Maybe they were bank robbers… gun traffickers… members of an illegal biker gang? She voted for option number three because honestly, who wouldn't wanna see these two in leather? But, looking up at the kind eyes of the young man in front of her, Betsy simply couldn't believe that these boys were anything but _good_.

"I'll have these back at you by Wednesday. Tell that handsome friend of yours to drop by again, some day," she grabbed the suits and turned around with a flirtatious wink and it earned her small awkward blush. "I'll make sure to tell him."

They took turns doing the laundry and the one thing that was always consistent was the spatters of blood saturating nearly all their shirts, jeans and flannels (at this point Betsy was pretty sure their whole wardrobe consisted of only these three elements).

Every now and then they would bring her clothes for dry-cleaning and she quickly took a liking to the playful side of the lighter-haired one. Dean was always up for a few flirtatious quips and he wasn't as shy and embarrassed around her advances as Sam was (yes, she had found out _his_ name, too).

"Alright, what do we have this time?" Betsy bit her lower lip, shoving her glasses up her nose when Dean handed her what looked like a blue plumber's outfit, another one of these cheap black-and-white suits and something that looked like a uniform for pest control.

Dean put on a smile of feigned innocence. "Would you believe me if I told you we're going for the Guinness World Record of having the most jobs in one year?"

Betsy quirked an eyebrow at Dean and pursed her lips. "Nope."

Dean grimaced. "How about we are both actors at the local town theatre, going for the same roles?"

"No way," she laughed, shaking her head. Because these two might be many things, but she couldn't picture them on a stage.

"Okay," Dean sighed, face growing serious as he leaned forward conspiratorially. He cast a nervous glance over his shoulder as if to try and see if anybody was listening in on their conversation and Betsy's heart threatened to beat right out of her chest, palms growing sweaty with anticipation.

This was it. He was going finally to tell her that they were FBI agents working undercover.

Or criminals dabbling in identity fraud.

"Betsy, this needs to stay between the two of us, you hear me?" he lowered his voice to a point where it was gruff and raspy, green eyes flashing ominously as the tension between them grew by the second.

"Cross my heart and hope to die," Betsy promised eager to finally get behind these boys' secrets.

Dean smiled a little, almost gleefully when he leaned forward to whisper against the shell of her ear.

"I know he doesn't exactly look the part, but Sammy…" he paused, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "Well Sam likes to get a little kinky sometimes… pull out the costumes and all."

Betsy's heart stuttered to a halt in her chest.

"What you mean like—?"

" _Roleplay_ ," Dean confirmed with a firm nod and pursed lips, eyes twinkling with mischief. "And I'm not even talking naughty-school-boy and teacher here… he's really into it, I mean- the whole nine yards."

Betsy swallowed, trying to think back to all the various uniforms and disguises she had cleaned for these boys over the past weeks and months… feds, rangers, janitors, doctors- and even freaking _pest control._ What the hell was so sexy about rabid dogs and skunks in your front yard? Betsy didn't get it.

Then again, these two could probably pull _any_ uniform off and still look sexy in it.

"He started out as an exotic dancer, you know?" Dean explained, shrugging as if none of that was a big deal. "And the whole thing kinda got outta hand. You know how it is."

He flashed her a shit-eating grin and Betsy laughed a little, shaking her head. "Gotta say, I would have pegged _you_ as the exhibitionist out of the two of you."

Dean shrugged a little, smile never wavering and god, why did he look so damn' proud of himself?

"Well, what can I say? Things aren't always as they seem in life."

"Shame, though…" Betsy sighed heavily. "For a second there, I thought we had chemistry," she teased lightly and laughed at his expression. "Should have known better."

Why the hell did all the hot guys have to be unavailable or gay? It just wasn't fair.

"Well, at least now I know you're not doing illegal stuff," she laughed. "With the way your clothes look, I was half afraid you spend your nights digging up graves or murdering people. Crazy, huh?"

"Yeah, _crazy..._ " Dean shook his head with a wavering smile and pulled a wad of crumpled bills from his jeans pocket.

She looked down at the ripped and soiled clothing… specks of blood and something that looked like green, slimy goo sticking to one of the pants.

Huh.

These two were really into some weird stuff.

Who would have thought?

 _ **The End.**_

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 _Okay. I read this prompt about the dry cleaning lady growing suspicious of the boys and I just couldn't help it. :) Hope you enjoyed! Please drop me a note if you liked it. Reviews make my day. :D_


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